Pete was planning. To the casual visitor or staff, he seemed to be spending a quiet day reading or doing crossword puzzles. There were no protests about taking his pain medication and not once did he call his physical therapist a sadist. He was the perfect patient, which should have tipped them off.
Sally, who never answered Pete's question, had stayed with him while he ate breakfast. After so many weeks in the hospital Pete had figured out the trick to getting a halfway decent breakfast; hard boiled eggs, bacon, cold cereal with milk, coffee and toast or a muffin. He steadfastly refused to order the oatmeal or any other "hot" cereal on the menu. At 8 a.m. Sally left to work a shift in the Emergency room. Pete wouldn't see her after work because she was going to her mother's house for the old woman's birthday. Sally stopped at the door; turning to admonish him.
"Behave yourself, please."
"I promise to be a good boy." That was an appropriate answer, but Sally had her doubts. Both his smile and the spark she saw in his eyes hinted at trouble.
O~O~O
Jean paid a surprise visit right after Pete rejected the lunch that had been sent up by the dining service. She came equipped with a Tupperware container of homemade chicken soup, a roast beef sandwich and a piece of carrot cake. While he appreciated the food, he was more grateful for Jean's presence.
"Hi Jean, it's good to see you." He chuckled at her offerings. "I was kidding about the carrot cake."
"Jim insisted." Her smile said otherwise.
"I'm sure he did. Sometimes your husband can be a little gullible." Pete nodded towards the door. "Is he here or did you leave him home?
"He's home, taking a nap, along with Jimmy."
A change came over Jean as she set the food on the tray; pushing it over the bed. For whatever reason, she felt like she had to say it again.
"Pete…I'm so sor…"
"Don't." Pete reached out and took Jean by the hand. "It's forgotten. I'm just glad to see you."
Pete's kindness had an unexpected and undesired effect; Jean started to cry. It was the one thing that Pete had never quite learned to deal with. He could handle a crying woman when he thought they were using fake tears to try and manipulate him, but Jean wasn't dong that. With a sigh, he gave in; pulling her into a hug. After a few minutes, Pete decided that it was time to stop with the mushy stuff.
"You're getting my robe wet." He smiled at Jean as she stood up, grabbing a tissue from the box on his nightstand. "First it was my bandages you got wet, now this. What do you have against dry things?"
"Sorry." Jean began to unpacked Pete's lunch, which also included a can of coke.
"It'll dry. Besides, a wet robe is worth it for this lunch. That stuff over there you can take home to the dog." Pete pointed to his discarded lunch.
"Thanks. But the dog has been throwing up cauliflower and Lima beans. If I ever find out which of his friends taught Jimmy to sneak his veggies to the dog, I will make sure that their mother gives them a few swats on the behind."
"Too late" Pete kept that thought to himself. Now he had one more reason to be glad that his mother was up north, back home in Washington. She wouldn't dare try to spank him, but he was sure it was better to not test that theory.
He started on the soup while Jean took the foil off of the sandwich. Pete used his spoon to point at the bottom end of the bed. "Have a seat."
"Thanks. You seem to be feeling better. Did the doctors say when they will let you go home? Jimmy is anxious to see you."
"Yeah..." Pete got a faraway look in his eyes. Being able to speak to Jimmy on the phone helped, but he needed to spend time with his Godson. "Doctor Franks was by earlier. Unless I suddenly get worse, I'll be discharged the day after tomorrow."
'That only leaves you two nights to sneak out of your room again." Jean shook her head, laughing. "Don't give me that innocent look. It might work on Jim, but I'm not buying it, I'm a mother."
"I'm offended." Pete spoke with a mocked sincerity as he raised his right hand in the vicinity of his heart.
"Is it my fault that I hate being confined? I was born to be free."
"It's a good thing there aren't any tall Maple trees outside that can reach the window." In that instant, Pete decided he had told Jim entirely too much about his boyhood adventures, despite the fact that Jim knew practically nothing about Pete's teen years. One of the things he did know was that Pete used to climb out his bedroom window and down a tree once his parents were asleep.
"I don't need a tree."
"No, you certainly don't." Jean paused to pull a rolled up piece of paper from the bag she brought the lunch in. "Your Godson sent you this."
Pete reached out to take the scroll-like paper, slowly removing the rubber band keeping it from unrolling. It was a childish drawing of a red haired man tossing a ball to a tow-haired boy; stick figures playing catch in the park. In the bottom right corner was a cherry red heart and the name Jimmy written in crayon.
"The kid's quite an artist." Jean was staring off towards the door; giving Pete some privacy, but she heard the slight crack in his voice. He didn't need to say the obvious, so he merely said "Tell him we'll go to the park soon."
Before she left, Jean took the opportunity to lighten the mood with the details of Jim's 211 at McDonalds.
O~O~O
At four o'clock Pete had another visitor; Father Joe from St. John's. The church was on Pete's beat and the unlikely pair had become friends. They had a tacit understanding that religion, and Pete's status as a lapsed Catholic, was not a topic of discussion. At Malloy's mother's request, the priest stopped by to bless Pete every couple of days. He tolerated it because he had promised his mother that he would allow them, but only until he was released.
Today the lanky priest arrived with more than holy water; under his arm was the well-worn chess set the two of them usually played on. They passed two hours playing and sharing what little news of the neighborhood there was. Then the priest joined Pete on a few laps around the ward. All the while they played chess and walked, Pete was watching and listening. While the floor was busy, no one was really keeping an eye on Pete; they knew where he was.
O~O~O
At nine-thirty, Marsha, his nurse for the evening, came to give Pete the sleeping pill he had agreed to take. He stalled her by asking her to wait until the movie he was watching was over. Marsha watched him with a skeptical eye, trying to decide if he was up to something. Pete employed some of that Irish charm he was known for and the nurse left, promising to be back at 11. Now that visiting hours were over a security guard had taken up residence on a chair outside his door.
"Eleven o'clock? You promised me that sleeping pill would have him out by ten. You expect me to wait here until after eleven?" Pete heard the chair by his door creak when the guard stood up to argue with the nurse and he smiled.
At eleven p.m. on the dot, Marsha returned with his nighttime sleeping pill and an injection of Morphine; Pete was ready. He had no problem taking the shot; he could move better if he wasn't in pain. As the nurse put the sleeping pill into his palm, he shifted it into his left hand; reaching with his right hand for the cup of water she held. Marsha watched him pop the pill into his mouth just before he spilled some of the water she had given him. While she grabbed some tissues and began to wipe up the water, Pete smiled, thinking of Sergeant Tim Marks. Malloy had protested when he was loaned to bunco for three months, but right now, he could kiss ole Tim for the sleight of hand lessons he made Pete sit through. The gruff older sergeant explained that it was almost impossible to spot a switch if you couldn't do one yourself.
After Marsha left, Pete removed the pill from his sling and proceeded to flush it down the toilet. Then, he waited.
O~O~O
Reed and Kasak had a slow beginning to their midnight to eight a.m. shift. It wasn't until after one that they stopped a car with its rear bumper hanging on by duct tape; at least the left side was held in place. The right side was dragging along the pavement and sending up sparks that were both easily visible and dangerous. Initially, Jim had intended to have the man pull into the next service station and have the bumper taken care of; three hundred thirty two dollars in traffic warrants changed his mind.
Reed was leading Kasak through the booking process when Brady told him that MacDonald was looking for him. Wells, who was riding with Brady that shift, added that the sergeant was in a "bad" mood.
"I don't know what you did Reed, but I wouldn't want to be in your shoes right now." Typically, Wells found the whole situation funny.
Jim took over booking the suspect in order to get it done faster. Whatever Mac wanted him for, Reed was sure that delaying the meeting wouldn't have a positive effect on the sergeant.
Jim rushed down to the Watch Commander's office. Reed didn't think he'd done anything wrong, but the glimpse he got of the man in the watch commander's office wasn't encouraging. MacDonald slammed down the phone when Jim knocked on the door. Mac responded to the knock with a brusque "invitation" for Jim to enter. Jim consigned his soul to God and went into the office.
MacDonald, who reminded Jim of an angry grizzly bear, turned on him.
"Where is he?" Out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw the other officers in the hallway quickly disappearing; an act of self-preservation, no one wants to be around a yelling sergeant.
Jim blinked, taking a step backwards.
"Where is who?"
"Did you help him?" MacDonald's actually growled as he demanded an answer.
"Help who?"
"You know who, now where is he?"
Jim bit back the impulse to say "Who's on first base."
"Where is your partner?" MacDonald crossed his arms and glared at Reed. Jim was taller, but Mac had perfected the sergeant stare.
"Larry is in the…" MacDonald cut Jim off mid-answer.
"I'm NOT talking about your rookie! Where is your partner?"
"Pete?" Jim tilted his head slightly, giving Mac a more than confused look. "He's in the hospital, you know that Mac."
"He was. He isn't anymore!" Mac took two steps closer to Reed. "Did you help him get past the security guard?"
"Pete's gone…again?" Jim flopped down a chair by the door, leaning back against the wall.
"I haven't seen him all day." Reed sighed loudly.
"How did they lose him this time?"
